


Ten Things I Hate About You

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) References, Auror Partners, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Domestic Fluff, Draco Malfoy's Birthday, Drunk flirting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), M/M, Moving In Together, Music fan! Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 06:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19101634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Harry can't imagine how he'll ever manage to be Draco's Auror Partner. Or his friend. After all, he simply can't abide the man.





	Ten Things I Hate About You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PollyWeasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PollyWeasley/gifts).



> For Polly Weasley. 
> 
> My wonderful, spectacular and kind friend. Thank you for being so lovely and encouraging.

##### 1\. Your stupid face.

Harry was furious when Robards made Draco his partner. 

Honestly, the whole scenario was an absolute _farce_. True, _in theory_ , they might talk now, but the ability to hold five minutes of conversation didn’t make them best friends. It certainly didn’t make them partner material. 

“Nonsense,” Robards had said, when Harry had shared his doubts. “Malfoy was second only behind yourself at the Academy. He’s a spot quicker than you with a few of the newer defensive hexes too. Take this afternoon Potter, and the both of you get some practice in. I’m not widely known for making mistakes.”

After fifteen minutes of practice, Harry realised that he did indeed still loathe Malfoy. 

“You complete arse! You hit me on purpose. You could _see_ I’d lowered my wand!”

Draco just raised his eyebrows, and spoke in a voice that suggested Harry had only half a brain. “And that’s going to be an issue when it’s a criminal firing spells, is it? Get with the bloody programme, Potter.”

Really, it was a good thing that Lavender and Theo had arrived in enough time to pull Harry off Draco. 

“You pretentious, overblown _wanker_ ,” Harry had muttered, fuming. This was never, ever going to work. He so hated that pointy, nettlesome, self-satisfied face.

##### 2\. Your stupid best-friends (and mine too).

Harry couldn’t believe the sheer _gall_ of Ron and Hermione. They were supposed to be going with him to Malfoy’s birthday bash, and yet they’d decided to go away for the weekend instead. 

“Going to visit Bill and Fleur, mate. Down at Shell Cottage,” Ron had said, sporting an abashed smile. “Come on, it’s only the _Ferret_. And you see him everyday at work anyway… You don’t need us to hold your hand.” Harry hadn’t, in the end. He’d arrived early, clutching a bottle of Red he’d brought from Tescos, and stood tensely in Draco’s kitchen. 

But being partners hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as Harry had imagined. 

Even he had to admit that Draco was a superb Auror. He made short work of clues, and always had Harry’s back in a duel. Even though it killed a small part of Harry to admit it, Draco’s defensive hexes were outstanding. But now, outside work, things between them felt a little more awkward. They had stood quietly together, unsure of what to say. 

Well, until Blaise had strode into the room, a wide smirk filling his features. 

“If it isn’t Harry Potter, Auror _Extraordinaire_ ,” Blaise had laughed, slapping Harry’s back and pressing a beer into his hands. “Malfoy never does shut up about you. Says your defensive hexes are _quite_ the best he’s ever seen.”

##### 3\. Your stupidly posh background.

Things were far easier between them after Draco’s birthday party. 

After all, Harry had reasoned, you can’t hate a person once you’ve sang drunk karaoke with them. Harry and Draco had watched their rendition of _You Charmed the Heart Right Out Of Me_ in his Pensive the following morning, and they’d both decided their duet was quite as good as Celestina Warbeck’s original. 

A month or so had passed, and Harry and Draco were on following up some witness statements when a name came up that Harry didn’t recognise at first. 

“Frederick _Fawley_ ,” Draco had said, narrowing his eyes as he read the parchment. “Witnessed the assault and robbery outside the Magical Creatures Menagerie off Diagon. His memories are the our most critical evidence. I’ll re-interview him, Harry. He’s a cliquish old bastard. _Sacred Twenty-Eight_. Old friend of my father.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry had spat out, all his old resentments rising up like bile in his throat. “Is that like some Pure-Blood thing then? You don’t want me involved with your old _family_ friends?”

“No,” Draco had replied in an even voice. “Fawley is a small-minded, miserable bigot. He’d have given you a horrible day, Harry. You don’t deserve to have to listen to him spew obscenities.”

Draco had stood then, and had walked away without any further comment.

##### 4\. Your stupidly interesting opinions.

“What’s this?” Harry asked, nodding his had towards the wireless. Draco and he were busy rechecking the Magical Creatures Menagerie assault evidence. The perpetrators were due before the Wizengamot the following day, and neither of them wanted any last minute hiccups. 

“Heathcote Barbary,” Draco had said, without looking up. “And Gideon Crumb. They used to be in the _Weird Sisters_ … This is their side project, _BloodMoon_.” Draco sat up and muffled a yawn. “They were on the Wireless last night.”

“When was that on?” Harry asked. They’d been at the pub till nearly nine. “I didn’t know Barbary had made any new stuff.”

“Don’t know,” Draco had said, stretching in his chair and picking up the next roll of parchment. “About three or four? I wasn’t asleep.”

_Well_ , Harry had thought. _You learn something new everyday_. He’d known Draco liked his music but he’d had no idea that meant staying up till four to listen out for it. He filed it away in his head to think about later. The following night Harry hadn’t been able to resist fire-calling Draco on impulse.

“Donaghan Tremlett’s new songs on the Wireless,” Harry had said, and they’d listened to it together, miles apart, but wholly preoccupied as the next few minutes passed. 

“Load of rubbish,” Draco had scoffed at the end. “Totally flat. _Tuneless_. No way is that going stand up to his _Weird Sisters_ stuff.”

“Fuck off,” Harry had laughed. “It was great. Face it, Malfoy. Your opinions, like everything else about you, have no redeeming qualities. 

They were deep in a conversation about the Appleby Arrow’s new Beater when Harry winced at the time. Two hours had passed, so he reluctantly said goodbye. 

Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy, pointy git that he was, actually had opinions worth discussing? Harry shoved that thought straight into the bin where it belonged. After all, it wasn’t as if they actually liked each other.

##### 5\. Your stupidly gigantic flat. And your stupidly delicious cooking. 

It didn’t matter what Hermione intimated. Harry knew that Draco and he would _never_ be friends. 

All they were doing were spending time together. Draco had a stupidly gigantic flat that was far nicer than Grimmauld Place. If the insufferable bloody prat _wanted_ to make him Spaghetti after they’d looked over their current cases, who was Harry to argue? Sometimes they lazed about on the settee, listening to records or reading. It had to be better than being home alone. 

But they still couldn’t get on for more than ten minutes at a time. 

“He’s _such_ sullen bloody arse.” Harry moaned to Ron, over coffee. “He _still_ wouldn’t talk to me this morning because I dared to beat him at Wizard chess. Said I cheated. As if I would. And you know what he said?”

“I’ve no ide-”

“Asked where my _Gryffindor_ pride had gone! What a _tosser_. I expect Malfoy was the one cheating. I still wouldn’t put it past him.”

Ron leaned back in his chair, stirring his drink. “And you just couldn’t let this go? You argued all night about this? Over a game of chess?”

“Yes! But it’s the point of the thing, Ron! Malfoy is the single most aggravating person I think I’ve ever met.”

##### 6\. Your stupid drunken comments.

Harry and Draco were at the Leaky Cauldron together. Normally, they’d have one or more of their mates alongside them, but tonight they were alone. _Funny that_ , Harry thought. When did he start thinking of Malfoy like that? As _Draco_. 

_Merlin_. Where had _that_ thought come from? They’d neither of them eaten that much day, and their pints of Wizard’s Brew were going down far too easily. Harry still wanted to argue with Draco’s every second bloody _word_ , but even he had to admit that he enjoyed the familiarity of the other man’s company. Harry tuned back in to whatever the blond prat was pontificating about currently. 

“Pansy… Swear to _Circe_ she fancies Nott… Did at school. They’ll get married this year Harry, bet you a bloody Galleon.”

“Piss off,” Harry said jovially, staring at Draco incredulously. “You’re properly plastered Draco. You talk such shit when you’re drunk.”

“I do not,” Draco replied. “I’ll have you know I’m quite _fabulous_ at handling my drink, Harry.” He leaned against the bar, and knocked a couple of the pint glasses over with a gesturing hand. Harry laughed, and vanished the beer and broken glass while Draco struggled admirably to locate his wand. “No. Not pissed at all, Draco.”

“I don’t _ever_ talk shit,” Draco said in his most imperious voice. “I want you to fuck me, please. Have done forever. Since you were that skinny scarred little arsehole whom the entire world worshipped.”

Within moments their lips had met in a heart-pounding, unforgiving kiss that silenced every thought running through Harry’s head. 

All their ridiculous fights over Wizard chess and Quidditch. All those plates of ruddy Spaghetti. All those nights listening to vinyls that ended with them both snoring on the settee. Harry tried to will his knees not to buckle as Draco deepened their kiss, and he leant into Draco’s body, inhaling the scent of his aftershave and the sweet smell of his skin. 

“I know you hate me, Harry,” Draco whispered, his breath hot in Harry’s ear. “But come back to mine. I want you to fuck me.”

##### 7\. Your big, stupid decisions.

Of course, nothing that good ever lasted long for Harry. 

Before he could blink the bloody _Prophet_ had exposed Draco and himself. Shared their secret before they’d told families or friends. Spewed vile headlines that shouted about the _Malfoy Heir Seducing The Boy Who Lived_. Explained precisely how it was forbidden to have intimate relationships with fellow Aurors. Harry knew they could have denied it, but the accompanying photo showed them kissing, showed them stood in the drizzle of a late April evening, arms wrapped tightly around each others waists. 

“So this is the end for the Potter and Malfoy partnership,” Harry muttered into Draco’s skin, the glow of his orgasm slowly fading. “Robards will have us in the office on Monday. Give us both a bollocking. Suspend us, most likely-” Harry paused, shivering. Draco tucked the blanket more securely around both their bodies. 

“We’re discussing this now? You’re bringing up _Robards_ in my fucking bed?” Draco rolled his eyes, and waved Harry’s hair out of his eyes. 

“Nobody is getting a bollocking. I’ve already tended my resignation, Harry. Apologised for the embarrassment I’ve caused the DME. Don’t you dare say _one_ bloody word Potter. Not one. You’re the best young Auror they’ve got. It’d be a travesty if your was career was ruined over this. I was hoping _this_ partnership might continue though-"

__

“You daft arse,” Harry interrupted, burying his face in Draco’s neck and muffling his words. “I should hate you for doing this.”

##### 8\. Your stupid holiday destination.

Harry and Draco decide to travel to the Caribbean. They stay in a home that Draco has borrowed from Mrs. Zabini, in the midst of the Wizarding district of St. Johns, Antigua. 

Draco hardly gave Harry an hour to acclimatise to the heat, the tranquil white light and the rich verdant greens before he had seized Harry’s hand and pulled him onto the streets. It was fiercely hot, and they’d pressed cooling spells onto each other, laughing and giddy. 

Harry had thought he might get bored, that away from Diagon and their friends they’d run out of things to say, but that never seemed to happen. Some days neither of them felt like going anywhere at all. Those days were spent lounging by the side of the pool, reading and listening to the wireless. Of course, Harry had decided, Draco was still _terribly_ annoying, with his insistence on the _right wine with dinner_ and his strict, boring adherence to sun-repelling charms. 

But somehow Harry couldn’t find it in his heart to mind so very much. 

They’d eat lunch in the shaded garden and take long walks along the beach, talking about everything and nothing at all. Sometimes Harry wouldn’t feel the need to speak, but even that didn’t feel strange or uncomfortable. On their very last night Harry and Draco had sat, watching the sunset, and Harry had weaved their fingers tightly together.

##### 9\. Your stupidly gigantic flat (part two).

_It just made sense really_ , Harry decided. There wasn’t any point in waiting any longer. Grimmauld Place was massive, and perfect for Ron and Hermione’s growing family. They could live there, and Harry could move into Draco’s flat. _Best option for all concerned_. 

After all, it wasn’t as if it was any kind of big deal: Harry spent most of his time there already. 

His records were mixed up with Draco’s own, and his Wizarding chess kit was set up on Draco’s side table. Harry’s collection of ‘disreputable rags’ had long been given wardrobe space and his favourite Wizard’s Brew beer already filled the fridge. His toothbrush had resided in Draco’s bathroom for months now. 

“You okay Harry?” Draco had asked, coming through the Floo with the last box of Harry’s belongings. “You’ve been quiet today. Not having second thoughts?”

“No,” Harry had replied, grinning widely as he unpacked his Gryffindor Quidditch trophy and placed it carefully in the centre of their mantelpiece. 

“Because it doesn’t matter where I’m living. A home is where your heart lives. As long as I’m with you, I’m home. You’re ruddy well stuck with me now, Draco.”

##### 10\. Sending you stupid birthday poems.

I hate your stupid, white blond hair,  
and the way you drink your tea.  
I hate your haughty posh-boy voice,  
and how your kisses are carefree.  
I hate your well-cut, pretentious clothes,  
and how well you seem to know me.  
I hate you so much it make me rage,  
and sometimes I’d like to flee. 

I hate you.  
I hate the way you make me feel,  
Like I’m special and I’m kind.  
I hate how, when I’m with you, my heart begins to heal.  
You make me feel like I was blind. 

I hate the days when you’re not here,  
The days you won’t let me fall.  
But the thing I hate most, Draco.  
Is that I don’t hate you.  
Not whatsoever. Not even slightly.  
Draco, I don’t hate you at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Have a lovely day.  
> Hope the poetry wasn't too bad XXXX


End file.
